


videocalls or a lesson in longing

by moonswinger



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Quarantine times, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, there's a little plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonswinger/pseuds/moonswinger
Summary: quarantine means enjolras has more time on his hands than he knows what to do with, thankfully for him grantaire has just as much free time
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras was, all things considered, handling this well. This, meaning the whole confined-to-the-house-and-unable-to-do-anything-to-help-during-a-pandemic situation. Courfeyrac would disagree, as he was doing right now. “He’s directionless!” Enjolras heard him say. A hunch told Enjolras he was on the phone with Combeferre, presumably thinking Enjolras was still out on the balcony. 

It was terrible enough that he’d been confined with Courfeyrac, to have to hear him complain to Combeferre about him would just not do. He made it a point to shut the door to his room loud enough that Courfeyrac’s voice from the other side of the wall paused for a long second. Enjolras fell into the bed.

In all fairness, Enjolras thought he could be handling it worse. He could be running to the homeless shelters at this very second, behind his friends’ backs. But the energy in him had been drained to the point that this thought didn’t even excite him. He didn’t entertain the thought, shutting it down quickly by replays of several arguments with his friends. Instead, he lay there, opening a stupid app on his phone and scrolling endlessly on it, his brain barely even registering the images. He was truly, entirely, losing his mind. 

Just when he was about to throw his phone away and give his eyes a rest and maybe start admitting to himself that he needed a new hobby, his phone buzzed in his hand. He squinted at the notification. Now what did Grantaire want from him? 

_\- hey enj_

It was simple enough, no cause for Enjolras to get alarmed or anything. And yet, he found himself sitting upright, strangely taking too long to respond to a simple _hey_ . With a shake of his head, he quickly typed out an appropriate response and sent it before he could give Grantaire a chance to think that he was taking too long to respond to a simple _hey_. 

**\- What do you want?**

Okay, maybe he should have given it a bit of a thought.

_\- jeez, just saying hello. we haven’t talked in a while_

Enjolras hadn’t realized that, but it was true. He hadn’t talked to Grantaire ever since the last Zoom meeting, which had been approximately two weeks ago. Enjolras wished they could schedule a meeting again, but most of his friends had work or thesis submissions or commissions or online classes, and their free times never seemed to match. It seemed like it was just Enjolras who had too much time on his hands.

**\- Miss me?**

He had typed it out and sent it before he could think twice, and now he could only stare in mild panic/horror at the three dots dancing underneath and then disappearing. He buried his head in his hands. To distract himself, more than anything, he left his phone on the bed and went to brush his teeth. He couldn’t hear Courfeyrac anymore, which meant he was either fast asleep or watching some show in his room with his headphones on. He could only really shut up when he was watching something.

By the time he emerged back in his room and gave in to the urge to check his phone, he’d received three messages. 

_\- i do_

_\- what a stupid question, apollo_

_\- of course i fucking miss you_

It shouldn’t have made Enjolras skip a heartbeat, but it did. God, it was like he was in some kind of a historical romance film, having received a letter from his lover at long last after being forced away from him for months. Wait, what? They weren’t lovers. Having just Courfeyrac’s company for over a month was clearly starting to have side effects.

And yet, he couldn’t wipe that stupid grin off of his face. He wrote back almost instantly.

**\- I miss you too.**

The next thing he knew, his phone was ringing. He answered it without hesitation, settling back on his bed as Grantaire’s pixelated face rearranged itself in sharper focus. “Hey,” Grantaire grinned, and there Enjolras’ stomach was again, making weird swooping things that made his smile stretch wider on his face. 

“I think I’m losing my mind,” Enjolras said, getting straight to the point. Grantaire’s hair had grown out, falling into his face like it did when it was freshly washed. He was on his bed too, leaning against the wooden headboard that Enjolras was sure he knew down to its texture by now. 

Grantaire’s laugh rang out of his phone. “Understandable. This is the longest you’ve gone without seeing me.” Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I’m going crazy, here, R. I have nothing to do! That has never happened to me before.”

“You could’ve called me, you know,” Grantaire said, “I’m just as jobless as you are, right now.” 

Enjolras frowned. “I finished all the commissions,” Grantaire explained before he could ask. 

Enjolras supposed he could have called him. “That’s wonderful,” he said, feeling anything but. Not that it wasn’t great that Grantaire could pay full attention to him now. Again, where were these thoughts coming from?

“What are you doing now?” Grantaire was asking, his eyes mischievous enough that Enjolras was pulled from his thoughts. 

“Nothing…?”

Grantaire hummed. “What are you wearing?”

Maybe it was the sincerity of the question or just that Grantaire looked like he’d been scheming to ask it all along, but Enjolras couldn’t help bursting into a laugh. “I’m sorry - ,” he said quickly, when he realized Grantaire looked like he wanted to die. He did that quite often, went red around his cheeks and ears after saying something entirely too tame and then saying something filthy the next second without any hint of shame. Enjolras loved it.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, laughter still bubbling inside of him. He shook himself, trying to school his expression into something more serious. “I’m - uh - I’m wearing my jammies.”

Grantaire made a face, squished up his nose all adorably. “You ruined it,” he announced.

Enjolras watched him for a moment, smiling stupidly. This was so absurd. “If I knew you were going to call, I would’ve changed into something sexier.”

“Stripped down to your boxers, you mean.” The grin was back on Grantaire’s face. 

Enjolras shrugged, feeling a little bold. “I could do that now,” he said, watching in delight as Grantaire’s eyebrows rose and disappeared for a moment under his fringe. Enjolras was glad he had advised Grantaire against taking the scissor to them himself. 

“Do it,” Grantaire said, almost distractedly, nodding at Enjolras and looking down as if that would magically tilt Enjolras’ phone camera downwards. 

Enjolras stifled a giggle and shuffled to pull down his pajamas, jumping up as he did and rushing to lock his bedroom door. The last thing he needed was to give Courfeyrac another reason to annoy him. Grantaire was watching him stumble around silently, but with a more intent look in his eyes and just a hint of a smile. “Now you,” Enjolras told him, once he had settled back in bed, feeling a little ridiculous and hot under Grantaire’s stare. 

“I’m way ahead of you, Apollo,” he replied, and then there was a blur of movement and rustle of bedsheets moving and then Grantaire was back on screen. Enjolras’ breath caught in his throat, “Oh.”

Grantaire had propped up his phone against something, and now there was much more of him on screen. So much more of him. And he wasn’t wearing a single thing, save for the yellow bed covers draped across over his hips. Enjolras had not been expecting that. 

“Holy shit,” he said, and Grantaire’s crooked grin widened. “That’s not fair,” Enjolras stressed, because how dare Grantaire just lie there, knowing what kind of effect that was having on him, and worse, knowing that Enjolras could do nothing about it because he was locked away in this apartment and _smile_.

“What’s not fair, babe?” he said, oh-so-innocently, and Enjolras wanted to strangle him right there. Except he couldn’t. He couldn’t touch him. All he could do was groan in frustration. 

“I want to touch you,” he whined, not even bothering to feel embarrassed. 

“Yeah?” Grantaire said, dropping his voice an octave lower in a way that went straight to Enjolras’ dick, “Too bad you’re just going to have to watch me touch myself.”

Enjolras felt a jolt of excitement, feeling his body react just as eagerly. “Tease,” he murmured.

“Do what I do,” Grantaire said, ignoring him. Enjolras watched him bring his free hand to his waist, his fingers running up over the front of his chest, all the while looking at Enjolras with glazed eyes. He wasn’t quick to obey, one, because he was so incredibly transfixed and two, because he was busy imagining it was him doing that to Grantaire instead. Grantaire’s fingers were now pinching his nipple, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. “Enj,” he whispered, to snap Enjolras’ attention back to his face, “do what I do.” 

Enjolras huffed, following Grantaire’s lead and letting his own free hand explore his chest. It wasn’t the same and he felt all kinds of ridiculous doing it, but as long as he was watching Grantaire and knowing that Grantaire was feeling the same warm feeling in the pool of his stomach when he rubbed the little nub of his nipple between a thumb and forefinger, it was good. It was so good. 

Grantaire’s fingers were now travelling downwards, and Enjolras was distracted once again as he watched them disappear down the covers. “God, I wish you were here,” Grantaire was saying. Enjolras could see his hand move under the covers, the motions so familiar, he didn’t even know why Grantaire was bothering with the covers. “There’s no need to be modest now,” he said, impatiently, ignoring the show Grantaire was putting on by making sweet sounds. 

He heard Grantaire chuckle, “It’s called a build-up, Enj. You’re absolutely terrible.” Thankfully, before Enjolras could complain about how his life was difficult enough at the moment, he pulled down the covers to let Enjolras see. 

He was beautiful like this, lying on his side, propped up on an elbow, lazily stroking his cock while he stared at Enjolras. It was also agonizing for Enjolras’ own downstairs situation. “Happy?” Grantaire asked, knowing full well that he was. Enjolras gave him a pleased hum as an answer, reaching down to let his own erection spring out of the confines of his boxers. He brought his hand to his mouth, swallowing as he felt Grantaire track his movement, and licked his palm. With a little smug grin at the curse Grantaire muttered under his breath, he proceeded to wrap his lips around his finger.

“I miss your mouth,” Grantaire said, which sounded more sad and genuine than anything he’d been going for. 

Enjolras sucked at his finger, imagining for a moment that it was Grantaire’s cock instead. “You wish you were sucking me off, don’t you?” Grantaire said, seemingly reading his mind. “Wish I was there to pull at your hair and fuck your pretty face? You like that, don’t you?” Enjolras moaned around his finger, nodding distractedly as he pulled it out and thrust it in, mimicking the image. It was so oddly satisfying to have Grantaire know what he wanted without having to say it aloud. 

“Fuck, you’re pretty like that. Pretty even while making a mess,” Grantaire said, when Enjolras felt a dribble of saliva run down his jaw. Just the way Grantaire was watching him with obvious arousal in his eyes made him shiver with excitement. He wanted more, he wanted so much more. And again, like he’d read Enjolras’ mind, Grantaire whispered, “Touch yourself, baby.” And really, who was he to deny that? 

He reached down to his aching cock, wrapping his wet fingers around his length, sighing with pleasure. “Yeah, just like that,” Grantaire’s voice told him, and God, it was a very real possibility that Enjolras could come from hearing his voice alone. He looked back at the screen to find that Grantaire was stroking himself too, his long fingers squeezing and pulling along his impressive length. Enjolras had been stupidly nervous when he’d first seen him, because while his own cock was average looking at best, Grantaire’s looked like it was straight out of a porno. 

“Let me see,” Grantaire said, pulling him from his pleasure fogged brain. Oh, right. Grantaire couldn’t even see what he was doing, because Enjolras had been too focused on Grantaire to have bothered to change his camera angle. Instead, he just flipped to his back camera, letting Grantaire have a proper close view of him swiping his thumb over his head and sliding his fingers up and down. 

His dick gave a happy twitch at how Grantaire bit his lip at the new view. “The first thing I’m going to do once this quarantine ends is come over to your place and let you fuck me until you can’t,” he told Grantaire. “I miss feeling you inside me, R. You have no idea - you feel so good.”

He watched the apple of Grantaire’s throat bob as he listened to him, his hand picking up pace, undoubtedly imagining fucking Enjolras. “Fuck, Enj. Don’t you - why don’t you fuck yourself on your fingers, hm?”

Enjolras moaned, dropping his phone in a rush to reach out and fumble around in his drawers for lube. “Sorry,” he said, once he’d settled back once again, but instead of being annoyed or anything, Grantaire just looked smug. “Go on, then,” is all he said. Enjolras propped his phone against the headboard, getting comfortable as he turned around to give Grantaire a good view of his ass. He could hear Grantaire’s appreciative murmurs, encouraging him as he lubed up his fingers and reached back. He could still look at Grantaire over his shoulder, catching the face he made when he let out a groan as Enjolras’ fingers breached his hole. It was probably the fact that it had been literal weeks since he’d done this, but Enjolras couldn’t help feeling that he wasn’t going to last, especially when he was already so close at the one finger. 

He moaned, letting his eyes fall shut as he pumped his finger in and out, Grantaire’s sweet nothings almost driving him insane. “You look so good, baby,” he was saying, “Can’t wait to replace your finger with my cock. I bet you’ve gone as tight as you were the first time, huh?”

Enjolras could barely keep up, slipping another finger in. He looked over at Grantaire again, biting his lip and imagining it really was Grantaire’s cock in him instead of his fingers. “So tight, R,” he nodded, “so -,” he broke off with a sharp cry as he found his sweet spot. 

“That’s good, baby, yeah, give it a proper massage - You’re doing so good,” Grantaire’s murmured, “So good for me.” 

Before just then, Enjolras had had no idea that hearing praise from Grantaire could have had such an effect on him. He groaned, arching his back as he pushed his face into the crook of his elbow, doing exactly what Grantaire had told him to. And it was so, so good. He rubbed at the little muscle, his cock throbbing into the wet spot on his sheet where he’d dribbled precum, feeling the warm coil of pleasure tighten inside him. 

“That’s it, baby,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras had to stifle his cry in his elbow as he came. Grantaire was still talking, long after Enjolras had come down from his high and pulled his fingers away, but he couldn’t make out any of the words. He didn’t have to, Grantaire’s soothing voice and tone made him sure it was just more praises, and knowing that was enough. 

He pulled the phone closer to his face using his clean hand, finally shifting until he was laying on the clean side of the bed. “Did you -?” he asked, but he already knew the answer, because Grantaire was smiling at him with that dopey look on his face. He was a little annoyed that he’d missed it. Grantaire had pulled the phone closer to his face too, and Enjolras felt inexplicably closer to him. It was silly. But his brain was all goo after riding on that high, so he allowed it. 

It was Grantaire who finally broke the comfortable, warm silence. “I thought it’d make me feel better, but now I just miss you more.”

Enjolras watched him through his droopy, heavy eyelids. “I know. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss how you turn into a giant octopus after sex.”

Grantaire gave a surprised laugh, “I knew you secretly liked cuddling.”

Enjolras would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t so tired. He settled for clicking his tongue, and decided that Grantaire deserved the truth. “Only post-sex,” he admitted, “and maybe only with you.” 

Grantaire remained silent for a brief moment, still smiling dopily. “Is that some kind of a confession?” he asked, and Enjolras was very much pleased to hear the hint of hopefulness in his voice.

He didn’t have to think very hard about the answer, but he wanted to save it for a better day when he could put it in better words. For now, he settled with a soft “Good night, Grantaire,” and watched Grantaire’s smile widen. 

“Good night, Enjolras,” he said. 

And if they remained on the call after this reasonable exchange of goodbyes, silently enjoying each other’s company until Enjolras fell asleep, well, that was just because they were both too stubborn to be the first one to end the call. Obviously.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no smut in this one, oops! but it's a short one!

“What are you smiling about?” Enjolras asked Courfeyrac over his cup of coffee, unable to ignore the way Courfeyrac had promptly set down his phone - which he religiously used first thing in the morning to scroll down his Twitter feed and read aloud for Enjolras some tweets that he found either interesting, or plain stupid and Enjolras did his best to either not get angry at the world or enjoy them, however lost the humor was in transfer of medium. Courfeyrac was not only disrupting their morning routine, but also grinning at Enjolras, as though he was waiting for something. And really, Enjolras could only avoid him for so long.

Courfeyrac, as was typical, took a long sip of his own coffee, still grinning into his cup. “What?” Enjolras asked again, a tad bit annoyed. He’d slept surprisingly well in the night, and as such woken up with an excellent mood, already feeling productive and hopeful about the day before he’d even gotten out of bed. He was not going to let Courfeyrac ruin it. 

“What were  _ you _ smiling about?” Courfeyrac asked, his eyes glinting in the morning light. Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him. To be fair, he had just been smiling, while he had poured himself coffee.

“It’s a good day,” he answered, finally, setting aside his cup and helping himself to a toast. Courfeyrac may have been a messy, and sometimes intolerable roommate, but he always woke up earlier than Enjolras and made breakfast. It was enough to keep him around.

Courfeyrac looked outside their kitchen window, calculating how good of a day it was, Enjolras assumed. It was raining, just lightly. He hummed in acquiescence, and then watched Enjolras butter his toast. “So this has nothing to do with the fact that you called Grantaire last night?” 

The butter knife nearly slipped from Enjolras’ hand. He hadn’t thought Courfeyrac had heard them. God, how much had he heard? When he looked up at Courfeyrac, he was only smiling innocently at him, which answered none of Enjolras’ questions. He was usually good at being put on the spot, and yet. “No. Why would it have anything to do with that?” he said, far too quickly. “And - he called me. Just so you know. How much did you hear?”

The knowing smile on Courfeyrac’s face was troubling, to say the least. “Oh. He called you,” he repeated, mockingly. Enjolras wished he withered at his glare. “Just - what exactly is going on between you two?”

There it was. The question that Enjolras had feared. “Nothing is going on between us,” he answered hotly, biting a little too hard into his toast.

“Sure,” Courfeyrac said, disbelief etched into his voice. He waited for further explanation, and when it didn’t come, he slapped his hand onto the table. “Come on! Are you together? Are you not-together? Are you just fucking around?”

Enjolras was a little appalled at Courfeyrac’s straightforwardness, although he should have seen it coming. He let out a sigh, “I don’t know, okay? I guess we’re not putting labels on it.” He knew Courfeyrac hadn’t liked that answer as much he didn’t like it himself. 

“What do you mean? Why not? You like labels.” 

“I hate labels, that’s - that’s not even the point,” Enjolras said, avoiding Courfeyrac’s gaze as he looked down at his half-eaten toast. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“Why not?” Courfeyrac was relentless. And he’d decided, apparently, to ruin Enjolras’ morning by making him think about things that he’d rather not think about. He’d always kept his feelings for Grantaire in a neat box inside his head that he was going to sort out later. He was going to, some day, when he didn’t have too many things going on. Except, that box had grown heavy somehow, all on it’s own, over the months. And once they had started this thing, this thing where they occasionally shared a kiss or fucked, that box had to be split into multiple boxes, so that every single thing he felt about every single touch or look received from Grantaire could be easily stored and analyzed later. Courfeyrac would laugh if he told him that. 

“It’s never come up before,” he said instead, which was mostly the truth. Grantaire had tried to bring it up, trying to be as subtle as he could about it. He’d asked Enjolras if he thought they’d make a cuter couple than Cosette and Marius. “No,” Enjolras had answered, truthfully, “but we would be a much hotter power couple.” Grantaire had laughed, and said “A power couple that disagrees on everything.”

Courfeyrac shook his head in disbelief. “Communication, Enjolras, communication,” is all he said, as if he was imparting some age-old wisdom. He picked up his phone again, and Enjolras (wrongfully) assumed that was the end of it. He had barely finished his toast when Courfeyrac spoke again. “You know he’s gone for you, right?” he asked, and Enjolras had to look up at him to see if he wasn’t joking. “He’s totally gone for you,” Courfeyrac repeated, slowly, his phone still loosely held in his hand, “He’d say yes if you asked him out.”

Enjolras wished he had that kind of blind faith in Grantaire. “You don’t know that.”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “Try asking him out, then.” 

Enjolras groaned, standing up to clear his dish and cup and rinse them in the sink. “I’m not going to ask him out in the middle of a pandemic, Courf. Just - drop it.”

Courfeyrac hadn’t moved from the table. He was frowning at Enjolras when he turned to lean against the counter and dared him to say another word. “What are you really afraid of?” he asked. 

And - Enjolras would have told him off, really, had that question not stopped him in his tracks. What was he afraid of? He was afraid of - letting himself get carried away with his feelings, letting this become into a thing that he couldn’t control, letting Grantaire see all the messy bits of him, somehow losing Grantaire before he’s even had him.

“I have to get ready for class,” he said, instead, and avoided Courfeyrac’s eye as he walked past the table out of the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest smut i've written with barely any plot (unless i continue this), wow  
> comments and likes make my day! feel free to roast my inexperienced smut writing, and also let me know if you'd like a follow up!


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